


As One

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 12:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12959112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Mòrag and Brighid discuss things, and have a moment to themselves. (spoilers up to ch.7)





	As One

**Author's Note:**

> i love Mòrag!!! and Brighid!!!! they're gay i love them. anyway i'm running on a half-tank of energy so i might've gotten some story details wrong but oh well.

Night falls. It’s only upon the combined insistence of Azurda and Dromarch that Rex agrees to wait for morning to set out from Fonsett and for Mor Ardain, despite the urgency that weighs down upon everyone’s shoulders. They won’t be of any use to Pyra and Mythra if they’re too tired to fight, Dromarch had said. Even a few hours of rest could determine the outcome of any upcoming battles. 

Most of them know that they won’t even be able to sleep, but they nonetheless retire to separate rooms at Corinne’s with the usual good-nights and sleep-wells. 

“What you said, earlier today…” Brighid says to cut through the silence that had settled over them. Mòrag is in the middle of methodically removing her armaments and uniform, neatly setting each piece aside on a small table. “About taking part of my core crystal, like Rex and Zeke.”

Mòrag pauses, her back turned. “I did not mean to make light of such a serious matter, truly. Did I offend you so, Brighid?” 

“Not at all, Lady Mòrag.” She leans against the wall on the opposite side of their shared room, resting her knuckles against her chin in thought. 

“Then why bring it up again?”

“Well, I think it’s just worth noting whenever you speak so honestly. To admit that you’re jealous of their bond… I never would have imagined that you’d say such a thing.”

Mòrag, now stripped down to her smallclothes, straightens up. But she still doesn’t turn to Brighid, as if trying to conceal her face. “Rex and Pyra, Zeke and Pandoria— they share things that we do not.”

“And we share things that they do not.” 

She stiffens as she senses Brighid approaching her, footsteps deceptively light on the creaky hardwood floor. Mòrag looks down at her neatly folded uniform and armor pieces. She had meant it. She really did. In spite of what sharing the core crystals meant, that the Blade suffers as equally as the Driver, that the Driver suffers as well, the notion of sharing pain to strengthen a bond had seemed so… 

Brighid’s rests a hand on her shoulder. “Lady Mòrag?” 

“Ah. Yes, I’m sorry. Please don’t mistake my envy for dissatisfaction. I could not possibly imagine a better partner such as yourself, Brighid.” 

“Your words touch me…” Her hand slowly slides up to cup Mòrag’s jaw for a brief moment, then still rises to nudge her hat in silent question. Mòrag, immediately understanding, nods, and Brighid carefully removes her hat and steps beside her to place it on top of her uniform. She now sees the troubled wrinkle upon Mòrag’s brow. Without her uniform and without her hat, she somehow looks smaller.

“It’s been a long day. Come, you should get some sleep.” She gently takes Mòrag’s arm and leads her to one of the beds. “But to return to my original point, I understand. You only want to become even closer, as Driver and Blade.” 

“As Driver and Blade… yes,” Mòrag flatly repeats. She sits on the edge of the bed, and when she gives no other cue to do anything else, Brighid sits beside her. 

“You know,” Brighid starts, with a small smile. “I bet the only other person aside from myself who has ever seen you outside of uniform is His Majesty himself.”

That does seem to do the trick of lightening the mood. Mòrag softly huffs and looks at her, the corners of her mouth twitching. “But of course. What would the people say if they saw the Special Inquisitor with her hair down?”

“Well, I think they would say that she’s very beautiful.” 

“Not so much compared to the Jewel of Mor Ardain.” 

“Please, Lady Mòrag, I’m supposed to be the one charming you here.” 

“Hah, my apologies.” 

The bed shifts beneath them as Brighid moves closer, taking one of Mòrag’s hands in both her own. Mòrag can feel her heartbeat steadily increasing. Brighid’s flames are burning to the touch, but not in any sort of painful way. It’s like the sensation of pure excitement, she imagines, in a tangible feeling upon her skin. Brighid puts Mòrag’s hand to her core crystal. 

“To tell the truth, I thought of it as well. But, like I said, it would mean bringing harm to you. And I could never let anything of the sort happen.”

Mòrag runs her fingertips over the core crystal and the skin surrounding it. Her expression finally softens for the first time since they had left the others to retreat to their room. “I could bear the pain, if it were for you.” 

“I am yours to command, and you are mine to protect.” As she speaks, Brighid stands (to Mòrag’s quiet disappointment, as her hand automatically follow her) and reaches for the clasps of her dress, slowly undoing them to let the fabric cascade away from her body and down to the floor. Mòrag is suddenly extremely aware of how dry her throat feels, but when she tries to stand Brighid gently pushes her back down by the shoulders, straddling her lap. “…Forgive my impudence, Lady Mòrag.”

“There… there is nothing to forgive. Nothing at all.” Mòrag gazes up at her. Her eyes flit down to her core crystal, and the rest of her body, just long enough for Brighid to definitely notice. “But I must protect you, as well. You are much more than my weapon.” 

Brighid reaches around to remove the clip from Mòrag’s hair. She brushes her fingers through, and Mòrag closes her eyes at the sensation of those burning fingers grazing against her scalp. 

But then her hands leave. 

“I was _terrified_ when that Torna man grabbed you by the throat.”

“That…” Mòrag winces, recalling the helplessness of being held above the ground by her neck, of having Mikhail’s weapon brandished to her face. It was a terrifying situation for all of them, but Mòrag had been more furious than anything else. Even the Flamebringer couldn’t stand a chance against the likes of that flesh eater. Still, her fury was nothing compared to Rex's despair in the aftermath. She wraps her arms around Brighid and presses her forehead to her core crystal, inhaling deeply. “I should have attacked the artificial blade holding you down instead. I was a fool. You should have been my top priority, back then.” 

“I’m not angry at your actions, Lady Mòrag. I suppose I’m just grateful that we survived.” 

“But you are upset about it.”

“Of course I am.”

Still, there’s reassurance when Brighid reciprocates the embrace, pulling Mòrag closer to her still. 

“But I suppose that even if he did greviously wound you, I could have just lent you part of my core crystal.”

“Ah, there you go, teasing me again.” 

She can’t quite recall how many days and weeks it has been since they had first started traveling with Rex and the others. It seems like an eternity ago that life was a neverending agenda of political meetings and investigations and paperwork, of long times of separation between them thanks to the work that needed to be done in both Mor Ardain and Gormott. Mòrag supposes that’s another good thing to come out of all this, that there’s no longer any need to be away from Brighid. She raises her head and presses her lips to Brighid’s core crystal; it’s searing. 

“But there are other ways for our bodies to figuratively become one…” Brighid smiles, and takes Mòrag’s face in both hands. “I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, Lady Mòrag?”

“Y-yes, certainly. I mean—“ She clears her throat, then immediately regrets the next words that come out. “You know I trust your experience.”

“Mmh… my previous relationships weren’t anything like this, you should know. Even if your jealousy is, frankly, rather cute.”

Of course. Mòrag isn’t Brighid’s first Driver. The Jewel of Mor Ardain has been one of the Empire’s greatest treasures for 500 years, ever since the Aegis War. She had never really asked Brighid about her previous Drivers because there was never any need to, but now that it’s brought up, she suddenly needs to know.

“From what I’ve written in my journal, none of my previous Drivers had ever loved me in the way you do.” Brighid takes her time with leaving a trail of kisses down the sides of her face. “I am a Blade. A weapon. A valued treasure of Mor Ardain. None of them would ever dare defile such an honored position as my Driver by looking at me as anything else but a priceless weapon.”

“So then, what does that make me?”

“My favorite Driver by far, I’d imagine.” 

Finally, she properly kisses Mòrag. Mòrag falls back against the bed, pulling Brighid down on top of her, and Brighid hums as she feels Mòrag smiling against her and her legs wrapping around her waist. They needed this, sorely, a moment of respite and intimacy after all the traveling and fighting and everything else they’d been through ever since that fateful day when the Aegis arrived in Torigoth. Brighid breaks the kiss for a moment to look down at Mòrag with opened eyes. 

Mòrag’s breath flees her chest in one fell swoop. “I’m… sure I’ve told you many times before, but, even the finest artworks cannot compare.”

"Please, you'll make me blush."

But if anything, Mòrag is the one who's blushing. How could it be, that she can feel so vulnerable yet comfortable like this with Brighid? But, of course, it's because she's with _Brighid_. The warmth of her flames envelops Mòrag, burning her down to her core. She hungrily kisses at Brighid's neck, earning a patient chuckle in response. 

“Shall we continue then, Lady Mòrag?”

“Yes. Please.” 

The door opens. 

Nia makes an odd sound, like a strangled cat. “Agh— couldn’t even be bothered to put a sock on the doorknob, you two?! Well— er, Corinne’s got leftovers, and Tora’s already close to finishing it all off. Just thought you guys ought to know if you’re still… hungry. _Ahem._ Don’t mind me! Carry on, then—!” 

The door closes. 

It had all happened much too quickly and abruptly for either of them to even move from their current positions. Mòrag lets her head fall back against the pillow with a loud sigh. Brighid softly laughs.

“Oops. I should have locked that.” 

“Well, if you could lock it now, then we can properly _carry on_ without any more disturbances…” 

“Of course, Lady Mòrag.”

“Thank you, Brighid.”


End file.
